Starting All Over Again
by Lenni George
Summary: A sequel, of sorts, to "She's Not Hayley". The continuing story of Aaron Hotchner and OC Carrie Hendricks. Chapter Six - Recovery Begins...Want more? Let me know!
1. Which Side of the Bread Is Buttered

**_"Starting all over again, is gonna be hard...so hard..."_**

**_Daryl Hall and John Oates_**

It had been many years since Aaron Hotchner owned a dog. He'd forgotten what it was like to have to get up in the morning and take the dog out, feed the dog each night, and was used to traveling without a care about putting said dog in a kennel. It wasn't that he didn't like dogs, to the contrary, he did. But with his job, having a dog was just not possible.

Carrie, on the other hand, had a dog. Woodward J Bernstein, known as Woody, was a mutt. She said she thought he had some schnauzer in him, maybe some terrier, she couldn't be sure. He had shaggy gray and white fur and big sad brown eyes that Hotch had watched Carrie cave into at least three times during the previous evening.

From the moment she walked into the house, Woody was Carrie's shadow. Following her where ever she went and laying, peacefully at her feet when she stopped moving. He was wary of Hotch, growling a bit when he took her into his arms in the kitchen and eyeing him suspiciously when they sat on the sofa for a bit.

Thankfully, Carrie locked Woody out of the bedroom while they made love. She laughed and told Hotch that she didn't want him to feel he was performing in front of an audience. Once the door shut and he pulled her into his arms, he didn't care who was watching.

At some point, however, Woody must have found his way into the bedroom and up onto the bed. Either that, Hotch thought from behind closed eyes, or Carrie not only had severe breathing problems but she also must've snuck out of the bed for a midnight snack of kibble.

Opening his eyes, he found Woody lying next to him, sprawled out as far as his 18 pound body could stretch, his chin resting on Hotch's shoulder, sleeping peacefully.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up," Carrie laughed from the doorway.

"I'm glad it wasn't you with the kibble breath," he smartly said.

"I gave up kibble a long time ago," she dismissed, walking to the bed, "Too many carbs."

As Carrie sat on the side of the bed, Woody awoke and sat up, tail wagging.

"Hold on, Woody," she laughed, "Aaron gets first dibs this morning."

"Thank you," he said, sitting up and kissing her cheek, "Good morning."

"Good morning," she smiled, "Sorry I ducked out on you…Aunt Evie locked her keys in her car and I had to get her my spare set."

"Where was she going this early in the morning?" he asked.

"To pick up croissants for us for breakfast," she replied, with a grin, "There are definite benefits to having her living here."

"She watches your dog, she buys you breakfast," he thoughtfully said, "Think she'd adopt me?"

Carrie's smile grew wicked, "She doesn't want to adopt you, but she told me she'd take you off of my hands if I grew tired of you."

Hotch laughed, "Does she always get your cast offs?"

She shrugged, "No, but she keeps asking."

"Well," he slyly said, trailing his hand along her arm, "I'm not quite ready to be cast off."

"Don't worry," she winked, "I'm not ready to cast you off." She kissed him, "Why don't you grab a shower then come down for breakfast. Aunt Evie should be back with the croissants by then."

XXXXX

"So, Darlin'," Evangeline Devereaux said with a wry smile, "Where is that handsome man of yours?"

"He'll be along in a minute or two," Carrie laughed, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She turned to her aunt and with a faux glare said, "And remember, this one is mine…."

"Now, Caroline," Aunt Evie drawled, feigning shock. "What kind of woman do you take me for?"

"The woman who taught me everything I know about holdin' onto a man," Carrie giggled.

"I taught you everything YOU know, not everything I know," she winked, holding up her mug.

Carrie took it and refilled it. As she handed it back to her, Aunt Evie's smile grew and she stood up. Turing, Carrie found Hotch walking into the room, with Woody following close behind.

"I knew she wasn't smiling like that for the dog," Carrie laughed. "Hello there."

"Hello, there," he returned. As she slipped an arm around his waist, he draped his across her shoulders.

"Caroline, don't be rude…"

"I'm sorry, Aaron, this is my Aunt Evie. Aunt Evie, this is Aaron Hotchner."

Evie held out her hand, "Evangeline Boudreaux Devereaux," she began, "It's so nice to meet you, Aaron."

He shook her hand, "Nice to meet you too, Ms. Devereaux."

"Oh, Darlin', please," she said, fanning herself, "You can call me Evie."

"Evie," he smiled.

"Come, sit down," she said, pulling out a chair. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"That would be great," he said, with a smile, sitting down.

"Carrie," Evie said, sitting next to him. "Can you get Aaron a cup of coffee?"

"Sure," Carrie laughed, "I'll get him coffee while you put the moves on him."

"I'm doing no such thing! I'd just like to get to know him a bit better," she sniffed, then, "So, tell me Aaron, where are you from originally?"

"Virginia," he replied, "Arlington."

"A local boy," she nodded, "Where did you go to school?"

"Georgetown," he responded.

"Caroline tells me you have your law degree," she said, as Carrie handed Hotch a mug of coffee, "What made you give up practicing law to join the FBI?"

"Honestly?" he said, "It really wasn't what I thought it would be. I thought I'd be helping people, instead, I was handling divorces and bankruptcies."

"I don't know," Carrie snickered, "I can think of a couple of folks whose divorces helped them."

Ignoring her niece, Evie went on, "I think it's very valiant of you to want to help people."

"Thank you," he replied, sipping his coffee.

"Are you done with the third degree, Aunt Evie?" Carrie asked, with a smile.

"Its okay, Carrie," Hotch said, setting down his mug. Then, politely, he turned to Evie, and said. "What else do you want to know?"

Evie laughed, "I like this one, Carrie. He doesn't rattle easily."

"I don't rattle at all," he returned, with a smile rarely seen by anyone in the BAU.

"Now you went and issued her a challenge," Carrie teased. "Tell her the whole story, Aaron and we can move on."

"Yes, Aaron," Evie nodded, winking at her niece, "Tell me the whole story."

He thought for a moment, then, "I'm divorced, with a four year old son who lives with his mother in Arlington."

She nodded, "What's his name?"

"Jack."

"Do you have a picture?"

"I do," he replied, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He flipped it open and pulled out a picture. "That was taken over Christmas."

Evie studied the picture for a moment, "What a handsome boy! He's got your eyes…and your smile. Looks like a smart child."

"Oh, he is," Hotch nodded, taking the picture back and slipping it into his wallet. "Smarter than me some times."

"They can be, can't they," she agreed, holding a piece of croissant down to Woody.

"Okay, so now that you know the Aaron Hotchner story," Carrie tiredly said, "Can we put an end to the interrogation?"

"Fine," Evie said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Let's talk about something else. What do you two have planned for tonight?"

Carrie rolled her eyes, "And just how do you know we have plans for tonight?"

"It's a Saturday night, you have to have plans."

"We're heading out to Shady Maple Winery," Hotch replied.

"I've heard so much about it," Evie gushed. "You will have to let me know how it is."

"Why don't you join us?" he asked, watching out of the corner of his eye as Carrie's eyes flew open wide.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose," she said. "You two need your time alone."

"It wouldn't be an imposition," he dismissed. "And we can have plenty of time alone later."

"Carrie?" Evie said, looking at her niece, "Would you mind terribly if I came?"

"No, Aunt Evie," Carrie laughed, "You know I wouldn't."

"Thank you both!" she excitedly said, standing up, "What time is our reservation?"

"Seven," Hotch dutifully replied.

"Perfect, I have time to run down to Mr. Julio and have my hair and nails done! I'll see you then, Darling!" she said, patting Hotch on the hand and walking out of the room.

"And that," Carrie laughed, "Was Aunt Evie."

"She's charming," Hotch laughed. "You're not upset that I invited her to dinner, are you?"

"No, not at all," she said, slipping her arms around him, "You're one smart guy…"

"Am I?" he asked, settling his hands on her hips.

"Sure, get in good with Aunt Evie, so that you know she's on your side, that way she sticks up for you."

"Hey, I know which side of the bread is buttered," he winked, kissing her.

**A/N: Don't let the sweetness fool you...if you're all interested in more, there is some angst on the way. Let me know if you want it!! Oh, and I must thank Susan and Annika for all of their help and encouragement, and those of you who asked for more Hotch and Carrie!! **


	2. My Fearless FBI Guy

"_**Recently I've been  
All of content and dreaming I have been  
'Cause I've been lately seeing  
Quite a bit of this woman…"**_

_**Dave Matthews**_

Cape Cod on a rainy February night could be about as bitter cold as anyone could imagine. Yet, Aaron Hotchner was unloading the trunk of Carrie's Mercedes SLK 350, in a cold drizzle that was chilling him to the bone.

When she'd told him that Dan, her producer, had offered her use of his cottage for a long weekend, he hadn't been overly enthused. It was a long drive to spend the weekend in a beach town, in the middle of the winter.

But Carrie's excitement and sense of adventure was infectious and before too long, he'd agreed to go along. Now, standing soaked and cold in the dark drive way, he questioned his judgment.

As he tried to close the trunk with his elbow, he looked up to find her standing in the doorway of the cottage, trying to open an umbrella.

"Never mind!" he called, finally closing the trunk and making his way to the house. "I've got it."

"You're soaked!" she declared, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Just a bit," he shrugged, carrying their bags back to the bedroom. He deposited them on the floor near the walk in closet then walked back into the living room.

"I'm sorry," she sincerely said, her Southern accent in full force. He'd discovered early on that while she was on camera, she purposely hid the soft Louisiana drawl, but when she was away from the lens, she let it flow freely. "I should have come out and helped you."

"Then we'd both be wet and cold," he shrugged, taking off his jacket. "Just let me get into some dry clothes and we can go find somewhere to get dinner."

"I have a better idea," she drawled, stepping to him. "Let's just stay in."

He smiled as she tugged at the hem of his wool sweater, "There's no food in the house."

"There's a market up the road," she dismissed, helping him remove the wet wool. "While you shower, I'll run up and pick up some provisions…"

"I'd rather you took a shower with me," he slyly said, pulling her to him.

"Aaron…" she giggled, as he slid his hands beneath her sweater. "You're all wet…"

"And when we get in the shower we'll both be," he said, nuzzling her neck. "Come on, Carrie…you know you want to…"

"And what about dinner?"

"Food is overrated," he said, his voice muffled by her neck. "We'll go out and look for something to eat when we're done."

XXXXX

Sunrise over the Nantucket Sound was a beautiful thing to behold and Carrie made sure that she was up, sitting in the window seat to catch the show. Sipping from a mug of coffee, she watched as the night gave way to a new, sunny day.

"What are you doing up?" Hotch asked, stepping up behind her and slipping his arms around her.

"Dan told me I had to get up and watch the sunrise through this window, he said I wouldn't be disappointed," she said, not taking her eyes from the window.

"And was he right?"

"He was," she smiled, as he kissed her cheek.

"You should have gotten me up with you."

"I figured you needed the sleep," she said, turning her head to look at him. "You never sleep in."

"I don't remember how," he shrugged, "Is there more of that coffee?"

"A whole pot," she said, turning and standing up. "I'll pour you a cup."

"I can get it," he dismissed, taking her empty mug. "Stay there. I'll join you…"

She watched as he padded, barefoot to the kitchen. He wore a pair of flannel pajama pants and a navy blue t-shirt, and his dark hair was tousled. She wondered how many people had actually seen this side of him. She didn't figure that many had.

"You're staring," he remarked, carrying the now filled mugs back to the window.

"Yeah, I am," she returned with a smart smile, as he handed her one, "Thank you."

He sat on the window seat and patted the bench next to him, "Sit."

"Yes, Sir," she smiled, sitting close to him. As he slipped his arm around her, she snuggled against him. "So," she said, looking up at him, "What do you want to do today?"

"It's up to you," he replied, sipping his coffee.

"Well," she began, with a devilish grin, "I'd really like to ride down to Fall River and do a tour…"

"Battleship Cove?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

"Well, yeah, we could do that," she shrugged, letting him know that Battleship Cove was not her chosen destination.

"What did you want to do?"

"The Lizzie Borden house," she grinned.

Hotch rolled his eyes, "Carrie…"

"I know, I know, but still, come on, it's fascinating," she coaxed. "One of the most notorious murders in history…"

"You really want to go to the Lizzie Borden house," he said, the set of her jaw telling him she was serious.

"If I let you crawl around on the Russian sub at Battleship Cove, can we do the tour of the Lizzie Borden house?" she asked.

The childlike smile on her face caused him to give in quickly, but not too quickly. He pretended to think it over for a moment, "Okay…"

"Yay," she laughed, pecking his cheek. "I knew you'd give in."

He laughed, "Am I that easy?"

After setting her coffee cup on the end table, she slipped her arms round his neck and kissed him deeply, "Yeah, you are, but I'm not complaining."

Setting his cup next to hers, he wrapped his arms around her, "Or, we could just stay here."

"Nope," she grinned, giving him a quick kiss and slipping out of his arms. "Let me get a shower, so we can get on the road."

"Wait a minute," he said, reaching for her, but she eluded his grasp.

Laughing, she backed out of the room. "I'm taking a shower…" she called, walking into the master bedroom.

"Need help?" he called back.

"Aaron, didn't you get enough of the shower last night?" she returned with a laugh that told him she was serious about showering and getting ready to go.

He stood and carried the cups to the sink. As he passed the doorway to the side bedroom, he caught his reflection in the mirror and realized he was grinning like a fool. He wanted to reprimand himself for smiling like a damn idiot, but stopped. It had been a long time since he'd caught himself with a smile like that, way too long and, he decided, it was high time to let himself feel that way again.

Still smiling, he set the cups in the sink and made his way back to the bedroom, deciding to join Carrie in the shower, despite her protests.

XXXXX

"Okay," Carrie began, as they drove along I-195 East back to Cape Cod, "You can say something any minute now."

"I'm not quite sure what to say…" Hotch laughed.

"You know you want to say something…" she challenged, eyes twinkling. "You've wanted to say something since we started the tour."

Pulling his eyes from the road for a brief second, he took in her playful smile and decided to say what he'd been thinking. "Were you seriously challenging Lizzie Borden's guilt?"

"Yes," she returned, "Like I said to the tour guide, there was a similar murder barely 10 months later."

"Which was committed by a Portuguese immigrant who wasn't even in this country at the time of the Borden murders," he returned. "He was a copy cat."

"Still," she shrugged. "It could have been Bridget, the maid."

"And what would be her reason?"

"She was poisoned," she tried, causing him to shake his head.

"By Lizzie," he dismissed. "If that had happened today…"

"Dave Rossi would be writing a book on it," she giggled, causing Hotch to laugh with her.

"Probably," he allowed. "And you'd be scoring the exclusive interview with Lizzie in prison."

A satisfied smile crossed her lips, "You know it," she smartly said, resting her hand on top of his on the shifter.

"I have to admit," he fondly said, "Your points were well thought out."

"Of course they were," she playfully sniffed, "My days of going off half cocked went away in college."

"I do think you gave old Wilbur the Tour Guide his thrill for the week," he teased, recalling how impressed the older man was once he recognized Carrie.

"Stop," she blushed. "I was probably a pain in his ass."

"He's going to be sitting around telling the story of how you engaged him in…what did he call it? Oh, yes, a spirited debate. Yeah, he'll be telling that story for weeks."

"And finishing it up by telling how my FBI boyfriend was so engrossed in the autopsy reports that he was left behind for fifteen minutes and couldn't find the tour group?"

"I knew you'd get to that sooner or later," he said, only mildly embarrassed.

"You were so busy profiling Lizzie…"

"At least I know she was guilty…"

"Well, she was found innocent," she retorted, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Oh, very mature," he laughed, "Have you thought of going into law? That would make a great closing argument."

"You wish you thought to use it," she laughed, then, "You even missed the gift shop."

"What did you buy?" he asked, casting his eye to the white plastic bag on the floor at her feet.

"I got my dad a Lizzie Borden bobble head," she grinned, "And I got my brother an axe key chain."

"And what did you get yourself?"

"A t-shirt…" she grinned.

"Do I want to know what it says?"

"Everything I need to know about anger management, I learned from Lizzie Borden," she laughed.

"Only you.."

"I got you a coffee mug with a picture of Lizzie on it. I thought you could use it at work. It's fitting."

"Thank you for thinking of me," he deadpanned.

"Always," she winked, looking down at the MapQuest directions she held, "We're looking for Exit 22A – State Route 25."

"What did you want to do for dinner?"

"It's up to you," she shrugged, squeezing his hand, "We can go to that seafood place we saw last night…the one on the water?"

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, looking over at her.

"We can do an early dinner," she went on, "The clouds are rolling in, looks like it's fixing to snow or something. Maybe we can start a fire tonight…"

"And sit around and tell ghost stories?" he teased, drawing a playful swat to his shoulder. "No smacking the driver!"

"No being a wiseass," she laughed. "I was going to say, we could pick up a nice bottle of wine and sit by the fire…but since you had to be wise, I think we'll skip that and watch the _**What Not To Wear**_ marathon…"

"Did I tell you that I had to go home tonight?"

"Wise ass," she laughed.

XXXXX

Sitting back, sipping his third glass of wine of the evening, Aaron Hotchner decided that he was about as relaxed and content as he'd ever been. After a damn good dinner of steak and steamed Maine lobster, they returned to the cottage with a bottle of Merlot and some firewood.

While he started a fire, she took the comforter and pillows from the spare bedroom and set them up on the floor, then disappeared into the master bedroom to get changed, returning a few moments later in his Georgetown t-shirt and very little else. There was something sexy about the way she'd just taken his shirt and made it her own, a certain quiet possessiveness that he found reassuring.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, looking up at him.

He smiled at her, "I was thinking that this trip was a very good idea."

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" she agreed, sitting up so that they were face to face. She slipped her arms around him. "Thank you…for coming up with me."

"I should thank you for talking me into it," he countered, kissing her softly. "I can't tell you the last time I've been this relaxed."

"After three glasses of Merlot…" she smiled.

"Even before the Merlot," he protested, kissing her again.

She returned the kiss, prolonging it, deepening it, while she pressed her body closer to his. Breaking off the kiss, she pulled back slightly, and said, "You know what would make this night even better?"

"What?"

"Making love by the fire," she said, taking his glass and setting it, along with her own, on the raised hearth. She turned back and slipped her arms around him again. "What do you say, Aaron?"

He answered her with a kiss, laying her back onto the pillows. Looking down, he took a moment to study her face in the light of the fire before kissing her again.

"What were you staring at?" she asked, as he pulled back and tugged at the hem of her t shirt.

"You," he returned, easing the shirt up and over her head.

"That was quite obvious," she laughed, "Let me rephrase the question…why were you staring at me?"

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, "You're beautiful…"

"Aaron…"

"Stop protesting," he countered with a smile, "I think you're beautiful and you aren't going to change my mind."

She leaned in and kissed him, with her lips brushing his, she spoke, "Do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Stop telling me you think I'm beautiful," she kissed him again, "Just show me."

With a deep throated laugh, he kissed her again, his hand traveling along her side, coming to rest on the curve of her hip. He slowly made love to her, taking his time, trying to do exactly what she requested.

As he did, he allowed himself to think about the woman in his arms and how grateful he was that she walked into his life. Smart, funny, grounded, and beautiful as hell, he fell for her immediately and, in a stroke of luck that he still couldn't believe, she fell for him as well.

He hadn't felt this way in a long time, since way back in high school, when he and Hayley first got together, back in the stage where he would look at her and wonder what in the hell she was doing with him. Long before they got married, long before the FBI, long before things fell apart.

The sounds of her moans pulled him from his thoughts in time to watch as she arched her back, her eyes flew open and she cried out as she reached her peak. Watching her pulled him quickly over the ledge.

He collapsed on top of her for a moment, the force of his climax taking him off guard. As he took a moment, his eyes closed, willing his breathing to slow, he felt her lips on his, placing soft, tender kisses.

"I love you", she whispered, barely audible

He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. As he opened his eyes, he noticed the look of shock on her face, clearly caused by the realization of what she said.

"It's okay," he said, allowing the smile to fully form.

"But I said…"

He kissed her, then softly said, "I heard what you said."

"And?"

"And, I love you, too."

"But…"

"You're still scared."

"And you're not?"

He shook his head, surprised that he wasn't scared by this declaration.

She smiled at him, "You're my fearless FBI guy…"

"I am, you know," he said, growing serious.

"You are what?"

"Yours, for as long as you want me."

Slipping her hand behind his head, she pulled him close and kissed him. "That's going to be a long, long time."


	3. You Crossed a Line Today

"_**Girl I want you more  
than I can say  
Ah but Caroline  
It seems like every time  
Honey all I get is further away…"**_

_**David Gray**_

The small baseball field nearly vibrated with activity as various law enforcement officers milled about cordoning it off as a crime scene.

Aaron Hotchner stood near the dugout; his eyes scanning the field watching them work. Behind him, in the dugout, lay the body of a young boy, who, they believed, was the latest victim of an unsub who had already killed 6 boys between the ages of 11 and 15 in the Virginia area.

So far, local law enforcement and the BAU had kept it quiet and the details had not been leaked to the press. He considered it some sort of miracle. Unfortunately, his miracle was to be short lived.

"Hotch," Derek Morgan began, approaching him, "CNN is here."

Hotch snapped his head towards the younger man, "CNN?"

"Yeah, you know that hot brunette who's usually crawling around a war zone?"

"Carrie Hendricks," he said, narrowing his eyes and focusing on Carrie as she approached him with a camera man I tow.

"Yeah, that's her," Morgan said, but Hotch tuned him out as Carrie approached.

"Aaron," she began, her tone grave, "Is this another victim of the serial killer?"

"What are you doing here?" he asked his tone short.

"I'm doing my job, just like you are," she returned, echoing his tone.

"Why can't you just be my girlfriend and not a reporter," he muttered under his breath.

She heard him and through gritted teeth said, "Asking me not to do my job would be like asking you not to do your job. Impossible."

"Everything okay, Hotch?" JJ asked, standing between the camera man and the dugout.

"I've got it under control," was his terse reply. He turned to Carrie and said, "Ms. Hendricks, a moment in private, please?"

Taking her by the elbow, he led her around the small snack shack and out of earshot of the rest of the BAU.

"Aaron, what the hell do you think your doing?" she hissed.

"How did you find out about this?" he demanded.

"You know I can't reveal my sources."

"Don't give me that First Amendment bull shit, Carrie. Who tipped you off? The Local Authorities or was it one of my people…" he trailed off, knowing with a certain clarity who it was that tipped her off. "You went behind my back to David Rossi, didn't you?"

"No, I did no such thing! A few days ago, one of our field reporters picked up on rumblings of a serial killer and brought it to me. I wouldn't dream of putting you in a spot, so I called Dave and asked him if he knew anything. He gave me a few details and then today, he called me to tell me about the latest victim."

Hotch shook his head, "You expect me to believe that a seasoned FBI veteran like David Rossi would just volunteer this information to you? What did you have to do to get the tip, Carrie? Just how far did you have to go to coax that info out of him?"

Anger flashed in her eyes and she spoke in a hiss, "Don't do it, Aaron. Do not take this there. Do not even suggest it." She glared at him, and then quietly, "Just direct me to your Media Liaison."

Coldness took over behind her eyes as she stared him down. No matter how pissed he was at her, he could tell she was far more pissed at him.

"Well?" she snapped, "Are you going to point me to them or do I need to turn on the camera and point it at everyone in an FBI windbreaker until I find the right person."

"Jennifer Jareau is our Media Liaison. I'll make the introductions," he returned, in a cold, professional tone.

"Fine," she sniffed, following him back out onto the ball field.

XXXXX

When the team broke around 9, he knew he should have gone home and gotten a good night's sleep, just like he had advised the rest of the team to do. But Aaron Hotchner had some unfinished business to take care of, unfinished business of a personal nature.

He'd come very close to losing his perfectly honed calm, cool demeanor when Carrie and Eddie, her cameraman walked on to the baseball field. He was never happy to see a TV news crew show up at his crime scenes but having his girlfriend as part of that crew was an experience he was not used to. He knew he overreacted and said some things that really pissed her off.

So, instead of going back to his nice quiet apartment for the aforementioned good night's sleep, he drove to Georgetown and walked right into the hornets' nest he'd stirred earlier.

Knocking on the front door of Carrie's brownstone, he waited, listening to Woody's bark and the sound of his claws against the hardwood floor of the foyer.

"Woody, just hush," Aunt Evie's voice began, and a moment later, she pulled open the door. She wore an amused smile, which told him that she had already been filled in on the details of this afternoon's altercation. "Hello, Aaron."

"Evie," he said, waiting to be invited in.

"Come on in," she said, ushering him into the foyer, "You're a brave man."

"Why's that?" he asked, bending to ruffle Woody's hair and receive a hand licking welcome from the dog.

"You really pissed Caroline off today," she said in a hushed voice, "She's still rather…hot about it."

"I thought as much," he admitted, deciding to go for honesty. It might buy him points later on, "That's why I'm here."

"Are you any closer to catching that awful creature?"

"No, Ma'am. It's frustrating to everyone, so I sent the team home for a good night's sleep. Maybe tomorrow, with a good rest and fresh eyes…" he trailed off, grateful to see her understanding nod.

"And you came out here to face my niece's wrath," she nodded with him and patted his arm.

"I need to set things right," he shrugged.

She gave him a smile, "It's not going to be easy, Darling,"

He winced, "She's still angry?"

"After what you said?"

"Who was at the door, Aunt Evie?" Carrie's voice called from the living room.

"Go on in," Evie said, "Woody and I will just disappear." She winked at him, "Good luck, Darling. Do me a favor, don't let her discourage you. I know I'm talking out of school here, but Carrie's got it bad for you. She's also got one hell of a stubborn pride and you're gonna have to get through that, but just don't give up."

"I won't, Evie," he smiled, watching as she scooped up the dog and made her way upstairs.

"Aunt Evie?" Carrie said, walking into the foyer. Spotting Hotch, her features returned to the angry glare she'd worn when he last saw her. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"We need to talk," he began, in his best "disarm the unsub" voice.

"I'm not sure there is anything further to say, Aaron," she coolly said.

"There is," he firmly said, "Can we go in and sit down?"

She shrugged and walked into the living room. He watched as she took as seat on the navy blue sofa, the very same sofa that they'd made love on barely a week before.

"So," she said, pulling him from his pleasant memories, "You said you wanted to talk. Talk."

"I completely over reacted today…" he began, but she cut him off.

"No shit," she spat.

"But," he went on, "You need to understand my frustration level…"

"Aaron, I do," she tried, softening, "I've watched it building for the past week. Of course, you can't tell me about your cases and I understand that, but don't think for one moment that I didn't know the effect it had on you."

He took a moment to digest her statement.

"Don't be so damn surprised," she tiredly said, "I am not your ex wife who put blinders on to your emotional well being. I actually give a damn about you and worry about you."

"Carrie…" he softly said, feeling the truth of her last remark sting like a slap in the face.

"But," she said, all softness leaving her as she stood and looked down at him through narrowed eyes. When she spoke, her voice came out a cold hiss, "You crossed a line today…"

He stood to even the playing field. He had crossed a line and he knew it as the words left his mouth. "Carrie…"

"No," she said, holding up a hand that literally shook with the anger she was trying to contain. "You didn't actually say the words, but damn it, Aaron, you accused me of whoring myself to get information."

"Carrie…' he tried again, but she was on a roll.

"I have never and would never do such a thing," she went on, her eyes flashing. "Not only is that unethical, but damn it, I have more self esteem than that."

"I…"

"And what really hurts the most," she seethed, "Is that you, of all people, should know me better than that."

"May I speak now?" he returned, allowing frustration to creep into his voice.

She nodded.

"Carrie, I was wrong. I totally screwed up. This case is frustrating the hell out of all of us and we've done our best to keep the press out of it. Then, you come walking across the ball field with Eddie and his camera…" he stopped and looked at her, hoping for a glimpse of understanding and not finding it. "Do you understand what could happen if the public gets this? Do you understand the panic it could cause?"

"I won't argue the public's right to know," she returned, sounding rational and calm. "Because believe it or not, I do understand. I understand a lot more than you think. What you fail to understand is that I don't work for the local news team. I'm not after tonight's scoop at six. I was there to film the investigation, to document this entire event, to show the work that you guys do to solve these crimes…so that, when the time was right, we could tell the story of how the FBI works with local law enforcement to catch these…unsubs, as you call them. We're your ultimate PR tool and you only see us as a hindrance."

"That's not what we're used to from TV news," he protested, watching as calm rationality left her features.

"So you just assume that I'm like every other reporter…" she shook her head, "I went to Dan and asked for this assignment, Aaron. Not because I thought this would be some amazing career boost but because I thought that I could actually show the amazing work that the BAU does. I have been fascinated by it since I met Dave Rossi years ago and I think the public needs to see it."

She paced in front of the fire place, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. "This is not my normal topic. I do politics, I do military, I do not do crime. I walked away from it early in my career because it was too hard for me. I got tired of looking at the bodies, the families…" she looked at him, "And I am not doing this for you."

"Aren't you?" he countered, knowing as the words left his lips that it was his second mis-statement of the day.

"Okay, maybe a little bit," she allowed, "But only in as much as I see it more in depth now that I'm closer to it."

"I had no idea…"

"No, you didn't, and you didn't…no, strike that, you wouldn't let me explain it out on the ball field!" she snapped, "You just accused me of sleeping with Dave to get a scoop…you just lowered me to nothing more than a common whore…"

He watched as her anger took over and allowed himself to see the depth of her anger. He realized that with one simple sentence that he may have destroyed the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. He was tired, he was stressed, and he now had to do damage control. If she'd let him get a word in edgewise.

She continued to pace in front of him, lost in her own anger, which was bubbling out like a pot boiling over. He knew that she was getting ready for a melt down and he wasn't quite sure it would do anything to help his cause.

"Carrie," he calmly said, "Stop pacing."

"I am not going to stop pacing simply because you tell me to,' she seethed, "Do you know how pissed I am right now? How pissed I am at you?"

"I do."

"Oh, no, I don't think you do," she went on, full Louisiana drawl in effect. "Y'all just think that everyone is out for their own purpose and…"

She went on, and on, working herself into more of a lather, pushing herself closer to implosion and he couldn't stand by and watch any longer. He reached out and grabbed her by the arms.

"Stop," he commanded, holding her still. "Just stop," he repeated, watching her as she looked at him, her surprised eyes taking him in, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Somewhere, his brain disconnected from the situation, and he realized that she looked amazingly sexy.

Bending, he kissed her, hard, strong, and forceful, wanting to get through to her in a way that he knew he couldn't with just words. She understood and returned the kiss with an anger and vengeance that surprised him, and then she pulled back, leaving him standing, breathless.

"You son of a bitch," she hissed, "You accuse me of whoring myself and then you kiss me like that? Do me a favor, Aaron? Just go."

"We haven't resolved this…" he reasoned.

"No, we haven't and we're not going to, not tonight. Please, just leave. Go home, go back to work, just go anywhere but here."

"I don't want to walk away and leave things like this."

"Neither do I but I'm not ready to kiss and make up," she said, sitting on the edge of the sofa. She looked up at him, "You need to know that CNN has negotiated with the FBI and I will be filming this case as it progresses, interviewing your staff and the other law enforcement agencies you're working with, so that when this case is closed, we will be able to show the world just what the BAU does. Dave Rossi will be my prime contact point."

He said nothing, waiting for her to continue.

"CNN's official choice was Dave, he's the published author, he's the recognized name," she explained, "My choice was also Dave. I can't put you in the position to be a conflict between your job and what we may have between us. Personally, I believe that it would be much more fascinating to have you as the chief contact. But after today…" she shook her head sadly, then regained her composure. "Know this, Aaron, I will not paint you or your team any sort of way, good or bad. I'm just there to document what you do, how you do it, and show everyone the magic you guys do. My personal feelings for you will not affect the integrity of this piece."

"I didn't think they would," he said.

"You need to go," she said, standing.

He nodded, following her to the doorway. He didn't want to leave her like this, but knew it wouldn't do any good to stay and argue. As they reached the door, he turned and looked at her, "I'm sorry, Carrie," he sincerely said, "I love you."

"I love you too, Aaron," she replied, leaning up and kissing him softly. "I just don't really like you right now. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

He leaned down and kissed her tenderly. "Good night."

"Good night."

He walked out of the door and down the stairs, stopping when he heard the door quietly shut behind him. He hadn't expected this to go well, not in the least, but he had expected to have more of resolution to the argument, not walk away leaving things hanging.

As he got into his car and started the engine he realized how much he'd come to rely on their relationship, on Carrie's presence to be his anchor, his escape. He felt strangely untethered, strangely off balance and he didn't like that feeling.

He knew that his biggest priority was solving the case he was working on, that he owed those children all of his body and soul, until he solved this case. He would be his usual efficient, professional, dedicated self. He had no choice.


	4. The Stuff Your Viewers Want To See

**_"I know you're out there  
With rage in your eyes and your megaphones  
Saying all is forgiven  
Mad Dog surrender  
How can I answer  
A man of my mind can do anything..."_**

**_Steely Dan_**

David Rossi had to admit, he was skeptical when Erin Strauss told him Carrie Hendricks would be documenting this case for a future documentary. It wasn't that he didn't believe in Carrie's journalistic abilities, far from it. It was the BAU team that he was concerned about. He couldn't see them opening up and talking to her, didn't see them wanting to share their day to day duties with her. Much to his surprise, after an initial meeting with her, they all began to open up to her.

She sat back, observing, letting them work and to Rossi's surprise, they were explaining things, telling her things, including her in discussions, while doing their best to ignore the camera.

Carrie had been with them for nearly a week and as the case progressed, she'd carefully documented their frustrations and triumphs, capturing the roller coaster of emotions that the case had evoked. He gave her credit; she knew when to turn off the camera. She'd made sure she didn't film Morgan's frustrated tirade over the Unsub's taunting calls to the local PD or even Garcia's tears when she'd seen pictures of the latest victim, a five year old boy.

The BAU had warmed to Carrie, well, most of the BAU. Aaron Hotchner was the lone hold out, appearing on camera only when absolutely necessary and refusing to grant the one on one interview that the rest of the staff gave. When he was around Carrie, Rossi could feel the temperature of the whole room drop. Sure, both Hotch and Carrie were nothing less than consummate professionals, but that was about all they were to each other. Having witnessed the heat and passion of their relationship first hand, the coldness between them was a shock to his system.

Carrie had explained the whole situation to Dave and no matter how he tried to explain Hotch's point of view, it did no good. She could not be talked out of her anger and it was truly palpable when she even mentioned his name.

Hotch, on the other hand, simply shut down his emotions and functioned as he normally did. To an untrained eye, nothing differed from any other case. To the BAU team, however, the arctic freeze between their Unit Chief and the pretty reporter was blatantly obvious. Several possible reasons for their reactions were tossed about, but Morgan was the first to openly opine that their relationship had been more than professional.

It seemed that Morgan was quite taken by Carrie Hendricks and when he suggested taking her out to dinner once the case was closed, she turned him down. She told him she was quite tickled by his invitation, but she explained that she was seeing someone and, although the relationship was complicated, she really couldn't take him up on his offer.

Rossi had witnessed that interchange and was touched by the sadness in her eyes as she explained her relationship. He could see that Morgan noticed it to, but didn't say a word.

Rossi was pulled from his musings by a flurry of activity in the bull pen. Emily Prentiss caught his eye and motioned for him to join them. As he walked out of his office, he nearly walked into Aaron Hotchner.

"We've got a phone trace on the unsub," Hotch explained, as they rushed downstairs.

"Where is he?"

"Valley Brooke Corporate Center in Crystal City," Morgan explained. "The call came from a number assigned to a Customer Service Unit at an insurance company."

"Walter Becker," Rossi said, uttering the name of one of their prime suspects.

"Virginia State Troopers and SWAT are on their way and will contain him until we get there," Reid said, as they made their way to the elevators.

Rossi turned to find Carrie watching them raptly, standing in the bullpen with Eddie as he filmed.

"Well?" he said, "Come on, this is the stuff your viewers will really want to see!"

XXXXX

In her career, Carrie Hendricks had covered political rallies and trekked through warzones, but nothing prepared her for the tense excitement of a hostage standoff.

In the time it took the BAU to arrive at the Corporate Center, Walter Becker had figured out they were coming for him and managed to take four very frightened coworkers hostage in the locked down IT center. He held them at gunpoint and called the Crystal City PD.

Carrie stood to the side, watching while Aaron and his team coordinated their efforts with the local PD, the State Troopers, and the SWAT team. She stood, rooted to the black top, watching as Aaron, with only a Kevlar vest over his dark blue suit, walked into the open and spoke to Becker through a bull horn.

Aaron was calm, cool, authoritative and, she had to confess, he took her breath away. As she watched him open a dialog with Becker, she was struck by his selflessness and heroism. It both amazed and scared her that he was putting his own life on the line for the hostages and despite the sheer magnitude of what he was doing, it seemed that to him, it was just part of his job.

She was proud of him, probably prouder than she'd ever been of anyone she'd ever known, but along with the pride, she felt guilt and shame. She thought of how she'd been treating him, of how she'd continually brushed off his attempts to make up for his careless words, until he simply stopped trying and closed off his emotions.

She decided that tonight, after this was over, she would go to him and tell him that she'd been wrong. She would beg his forgiveness and hoped like hell that he would take her back.

"Shit," Eddie said, pulling her from her thoughts, "He's really going in there."

"What?" she blinked, not sure she followed him.

"Where were you?" Eddie asked curiously.

"Off in my own little world," she dismissed, watching as Aaron handed his gun to Morgan. "Why is he doing that? Where is he going?"

"He told Becker he would. Said that if he released the hostages, he'd go in and help him sort out this whole mess."

Carrie watched as Aaron walked towards them, her heart jumped, hoping that he might be coming to talk to her, but instead, he spoke to Eddie.

"Becker wants me to bring the camera," he advised.

Eddie shook his head, "No offense, Agent Hotchner, but neither of you is gonna be able to operate that thing. I'll go in with you."

"I can't ask you to do that," Hotch said, his tone grave.

"You didn't ask, I volunteered."

"Eddie," Carrie said, but stopped short. She knew she couldn't talk either of them out of going in and wouldn't waste her breath trying.

"I'll be right out," Eddie winked, "If this idiot wants his 15 minutes of fame; I'm just the guy to give it to him."

With that, they walked off and made their way into the building. A few moments later, the hostages emerged.

Carrier furiously scribbled notes in her steno pad, wanting to capture every nuance of the situation, wanting to preserve what Eddie's camera would not see.

Once the hostages were safely away from the building, the waiting game began. After a few moments, David Rossi approached her.

"How are ya?" he asked with a grim smile.

"How do you do this?" she asked, not even trying to mask her emotion. "How do you offer to exchange yourself for a hostage?"

Placing a calming hand on her arm, he quietly said, "You do what needs to be done."

"But," she began, stopping at the sound of a single gun shot. "Dave," she frantically said, hoping to get some sort of reassurance from him. She was trying desperately to maintain the façade of the seasoned reporter and not show the panic that was raging within her.

Rossi gave her arm reassuring squeeze, then pulled his pistol from its holster, "Step back, Carrie," was all he said.

Time seemed to drag and after what seemed like hours, but was only 20 minutes, another shot rang out. Carrie bit back the scream that welled in her throat and said a silent prayer for Aaron and Eddie. As if in answer to her prayers, Eddie walked out of the building a moment later. He carried his camera and wore a dazed expression.

"Becker's dead," he announced, "And Agent Hotchner needs a medic…bad."

All hell broke loose as people began to move around her. Carrie stood, seemingly stuck to the ground and watched as Eddie made his way to her. When he reached her she hugged him like a long lost brother.

"I'm good, Car," he gently said, squeezing her tight. "Agent Hotchner's not doing so well…"

Carrie looked over his shoulder to see the medics wheeling Aaron out on a stretcher. His face was pale, his eyes closed, and a nasty bruise was forming over his eye. Blood stained the snow white sheet that covered him. Without pulling her eyes from him, she said, "Eddie?"

"Becker shot him in the shoulder."

"And the black eye?"

The older man winced at the memory, "After he fell to the ground, Becker kicked the crap outta him. I tried to stop him, but he pulled the gun on me. He held it right here, Car," he said, holding his finger to the underside of his chin. "He demanded that I keep filming, while he killed Agent Hotchner, but as messed up as he was…your boy pulled a gun from an ankle holster and shot Becker. I got all of it on tape, Car. All of it."

"Damn…" she sighed, pulling her eyes from Aaron to Eddie just in time to watch his skin pale and his balance skew. Reaching out, she caught him before he crumpled to the ground. "Come on, Eddie. Let's get you to the ER…"

"I'm good," he dismissed as she eased him to the ground.

"You've been through a lot, stop arguing and let them take a look at you, "she said, in a tone that Eddie knew gave no room for debate.

"Okay…besides, I know you wanna go to the hospital to see Agent Hotchner."

"Yeah, I do, come on."


	5. I Nearly Lost You Twice

_**'Cause what you get in life you take it  
You've gotta hold on and make it last  
They say good things come to those who wait  
But it's life that goes so fast**__**.**_

_**Bon Jovi**_

She'd been sitting there for an eternity. Had she actually paid attention to her watch, she would have seen that she'd been at the hospital for nearly 72 hours straight. Time, she supposed, was irrelevant when you were sitting by someone's bedside.

Members of the BAU team had been in and out, they were taking turns standing watch in the waiting room. She'd heard Derek Morgan tell Dr. Reid that Strauss gave them all a week's leave. Morgan further went on to say that he wasn't going back until Hotch woke up, regardless of what Strauss said.

Carrie wasn't going anywhere either. She'd left his room sparingly, afraid to leave him alone. It wasn't that she didn't trust the nursing staff; it was that she was afraid he'd wake and she wouldn't be there. She knew it would sound terribly lame if she said it out loud, but she wanted to be the first person he saw when he opened his eyes.

They'd been fighting, barely speaking for the week before he was shot, mostly due to her foolish pride. Sure, he'd said some pretty low things, but he did apologize, he did explain his frustration, and he truly seemed to feel remorseful. She should have forgiven him. Aunt Evie had uttered those words to her many times but Carrie turned a deaf ear. Now, as she sat there, watching him laying still in the hospital bed, she wished she could take it all back.

Reaching out, she took his hand in hers, brought it to her lips and kissed it before setting it back onto the bed, something she'd done many times in the past 72 hours.

"Come on, Aaron," she quietly said, "Please wake up."

The doctors and nurses said that he'd be able to hear everything she said to him, despite the coma and that, he might just remember it. She'd been making light conversation with him, when she spoke, but mostly just sitting quietly by his side, watching hours of bad television and talking to whomever else walked into the room.

There was a lot she wanted to say to him and it was bubbling so close to the surface that she felt as if she would burst. Although she'd prefer to say it while he was awake and able to respond finally decided to take a chance and let it out.

"I screwed up, Darlin'," she drawled, "I let my stupid pride get in the way. I can hold a grudge like nobody's business and I guess I proved it to you. Sure, what you said was wrong and it hurt. But, dammit, I just let it fester. I should've accepted your apology. I know you didn't mean it."

She felt herself filling with emotion, "I love you, Aaron. I have since the first night we spent together. You are everything I have ever wanted in a man and I swear, if you just wake up, I will make the past two weeks up to you. I don't know how, but I will."

A sob worked its way out, followed by another, and then another. She'd nearly broke down a couple of times, but managed to hold it back. Instead, she kept smiling and trying to be positive. But the truth was, she was tired of holding back, tired of smiling, she was just plain tired. This time, she made no effort to stop herself. Instead, she gave in to the tears that had been fighting to get out.

Tears flowing freely, she rested her forehead on the bed and clutched his hand. To her surprise, she felt his hand tighten around hers in return. Jerking her head up she looked at his hand, and was thrilled to see that it wasn't a figment of her imagination, his fingers were actually gripping her hand.

"Stop crying…" he mumbled.

"I'm sorry," she smiled, "But you've had me awfully worried."

With a drowsy smile, he said, "You're speaking to me now?"

"I am," she softly replied, as he opened his eyes and blinked in the bright light of the room. "If you still want me to."

'Of course I do," he mumbled, closing his eyes again.

He lay still for a few moments, just long enough to frighten her.

"Aaron?"

Forcing his eyes open, he said, "Tired."

"Of course you are. You just rest, we'll talk later."

"Kay…."

As he closed his eyes again, Carrie pressed her lips to his forehead and left a soft kiss, "I love you."

"Me too," was his reply as he faded back off into unconsciousness.

XXXXX

She was beyond exhausted and it was written plainly on her features. Having spent most of the past week at the hospital, waiting and watching as Aaron slowly rejoined the world of the living. Each time he woke up, it was for a bit longer, he seemed a bit stronger, but then, just as she hoped he was back for good, he slipped off again. The doctors said it was his body's way of devoting all of it's energy to healing the internal injuries he'd suffered at Walter Becker's hands. She took their word for it, but it didn't make her feel any better.

Tired of watching her Aunt run changes of clothes into her at the hospital, David Rossi physically escorted her out of the ICU and drove her back to her home, demanding tat she showered and get changed. He suggested sleep too, but that wasn't happening. Not until Aaron was out of the woods.

At her insistence, Dave waited down stairs with Aunt Evie, while she showered and pulled on her favorite pair of jeans and a pair of loafers. As she reached into the closet to pull out a button front shirt, her eyes settled on the basket of folded laundry that she'd forgotten to put away the day before the Walter Becker's last stand.

There, on the top, was the Georgetown t shirt she'd stolen from Aaron in Cape Cod. She smiled, remembering how tickled he was by the way she made it her own and insisted that she keep it. She slipped it on, knowing it would put a smile on his face.

After pulling her hair up into a high pony tail and forcing herself to walk past her make up table, she went back downstairs to gather Dave and have him take her back to the hospital

XXXXX

Carrie and Rossi returned to the ICU to find the rest of the BAU team gathered in the waiting room. The relief on their faces told her that Aaron was still alive and well. She'd gotten to know the team fairly well in the past couple of weeks and was touched by their devotion to Aaron. They were a tight knit group and, she was happy to discover, genuinely good and caring people. They'd taken to looking out for her welfare during the past week, often bringing her coffee, or lunch, or even just making her go outside and enjoy the sunshine for a few minutes. Aaron was lucky to have such a good group.

As much as she wanted to run back in and see him, she stayed and chatted with them a bit, before excusing herself to go in and see him. Taking a deep breath and pasting on a smile, she pushed open the door and walked in. He was still hooked up to all of the tubes and wires, but his color had improved. As she studied the bruises on his face, he opened his eyes and gave her a smile.

With a smile of her own she said, "Hello there."

"That's my shirt," he said, his voice a bit stronger than last time they spoke.

"You gave it to me."

"Looks better on you," he shrugged, holding out his hand, "You can come closer. Bullet wounds aren't contagious."

She stepped to him, took his hand in hers, then leaned over and softly kissed his bruised lips.

"You can do better than that," he challenged.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I can take it," he said, as she kissed him a bit harder.

"How do you feel?"

He shrugged again, "Like someone shot me in the shoulder then kicked the shit out of me."

"Then you're feeling about like you should," she mused, her eyes filling with tears.

"Hey," he softly said, his free hand caressing her cheek. "I told you, no tears."

"I'm sorry," she sniffed, trying to hold back the tears, "I nearly lost you twice, I'm allowed to cry."

"Twice?"

"Once due to Walter Becker and once due to my stupid pride."

"You didn't lose me, Carrie."

"No, but I came close," she whispered, a lone tear rolling down her cheek.

He wiped it away with his thumb, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Standing there, watching as you were negotiating with Becker…I was so proud of you…so awed by you. I couldn't believe that someone so good and so…right would ever want anything to do with me."

Clearly embarrassed, he looked away, "I'm no super hero."

She turned his face back towards her and with a smile said, "But you are, don't you see? You wear a suit and tie instead of a cape and tights, but you still battle evil every day."

His swollen lips twisted into the best wry smile they could muster, "So you're the president of my fan club now?"

"Yeah, something like that." Her smile faded and she spoke quietly, "I've been a total ass. Watching you lay there, I realized that I've wasted so much time. Time we'll never get back. If I'd have lost you…"

"Stop. Just stop…"

"But…"

He cut her off with a shake of his head. "We both made mistakes. I'm the one who started the argument."

"But you manned up and apologized."

"Carrie…"

"I will make this up to you, Aaron. Some way, some how…"

"Wait til I feel better," he slyly said, "I'll hold you to it."

Carrie had to laugh at his sly leer, "What are you thinking?"

"You…me…naked. We can fill in the rest of the details later."

Carrie laughed again, filled with the buoyancy of someone who's lived through a terrible ordeal and realized that life can be good again. She leaned over and kissed him, pulling back slightly to study his face.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" he seriously asked.

With an impish smile she countered, "Bet I love you more."

"Impossible," he chuckled.

"Possible."

"Just shut up and kiss me," he replied, capturing her lips with his.

.**Author's Note: Thank you so much to Susan, Annika, and my new "Hotch Buddy" Anita! You guys keep me going and without your thoughts, suggestions, and support - I would be staring at a blank word doc!!! Thank you to my readers! Your reviews are the cream in my coffee!! **


	6. I'll Be Back On Top Soon

"_**In the darkest times,  
You shine on me.  
You set me free.  
And keep me steady as we go."**_

_**Dave Matthews**_

Aaron Hotchner stood in the large kitchen and looked around. He'd gotten fairly comfortable in Carrie's house and wondered how it happened so easily. When he'd been released from the hospital nearly a month ago, they advised that he could not go home alone. If there was no one to take him in, he would have to spend the next 3 to 4 weeks in a rehabilitation center.

It was not a pleasant thought, but he resigned himself to it. Until, of course, Carrie found out about it. She decided that he would come to stay with her and Aunt Evie. Of course, at the same time Dave Rossi decided that he would take him. Carrie stood her ground and after some persuasive arguments and one cell phone call to Aunt Evie, the two women had convinced the doctor, and Dave to release him in their care.

And care for him they did. While Carrie was at work, Evie took him to therapy and doctors appointments, dismissing his apologies and declarations of gratitude and telling him that she was happy for the company. When Carrie came home, she'd take over, forcing him to do his home therapy and taking him for walks through Georgetown.

They'd fallen into a nice routine and Carrie had managed to stay in town, spending time in production for the documentary on the BAU and doing a few stories from Capitol Hill. They both knew that she'd be called out of town soon, as well as they knew he'd be released to return home soon. They just never talked about it; instead, they enjoyed their time together and focused on his recovery.

His recovery had gone well and he'd dedicated himself to getting full range of motion back in his shoulder. According to his therapist, if he continued at this pace, he would be released to active duty in another two weeks.

As for the rest of his injuries, the surgeon who removed his spleen had seen him that morning for his final post surgery follow up visit and had released him with a full recovery. Sure, he had a couple of new scars, but he did feel a hell of a lot better.

"Aaron," Evie began, walking into the kitchen, carrying an over night bag, "Are you sure you'll be okay until Carrie gets home?"

"I will be fine," he smiled.

"I can postpone…"

"Evie, you've been planning this spa weekend for months, you are not going to postpone it," he insisted. "Woody and I will be fine here until Carrie gets back. Now, when is your cab to the airport supposed to arrive?"

"In a few minutes," she returned, studying him. "You really do look much better, Darling. I'm glad, you know."

"I am too. And I owe a lot of my recovery to you," he sincerely said, "I don't know how I'll ever repay your kindness."

"Darling, you don't need to worry about repaying anything," she winked, "You're one of the family now and family does for family."

"Thanks," he replied, feeling himself blushing.

Before she could reply, a horn honked from outside.

"That's my taxi!" she excitedly said, "I will be home on Sunday."

"Have a good trip," he said, picking up her bag with his right hand and following her to the door.

Ignoring her protests, he carried the bag down to the cab for her and waited until she was safely inside before returning to the house.

When he walked in, Woody greeted him with a bark. "Well, it's just you and me for a while, Woody. What should we do?"

Woody barked at him.

"Yeah, I thought so," he nodded, closing the front door, "Come on, let's go see what's in the refrigerator."

XXXXX

It was nearly seven pm when Carrie pulled up in front of her house. She'd finished the last cut of her documentary on the BAU and sent it off for final network approval and scheduling earlier in the week, then been called to Capitol Hill for a day or two. Coming back to the studio today, she decided to catalog and store all of the tape Eddie had shot for the documentary.

As she looked through the digital copies, she found the one section of tape that she'd refused to use for the story, the scenes Eddie shot inside the office building. Eddie backed her decision and to her surprise, Dan didn't fight her either. He felt the piece was strong enough without the graphic scenes that he admitted were hard for him to watch.

Carrie still had not watched them. Eddie had been adamant that she shouldn't. Not, at least, until Aaron was healthy again. She'd pretty much put the scenes out of her mind, until that morning, when she was cataloging them.

Locking herself into her office, she pulled them up on the computer and watched them. She needed to see what went on in that building and now, she believed, was the time. She wasn't prepared for her reaction to watching as Becker first shot, then brutally kicked and punched Aaron. She found herself in tears watching as, despite the agony he had to be feeling, Aaron stopped Becker from killing Eddie.

When the tape was over, she sat, staring at the computer monitor, fighting the nausea that welled in her throat. She felt numb and had to force herself to stand up and get out of the office. As she walked down the hall, she got pulled into an editorial meeting. Despite her lack of concentration, she played it off fairly well and managed to pay attention to most of the marathon meeting.

She called Aaron when she was getting ready to leave, knowing that Aunt Evie had left for her weekend in New Orleans and that he would be home alone. She offered to bring home dinner, but he said he had it covered and that she should just come home. Tiredly, she made her way back to Georgetown, trying to force the videotaped images from her brain.

Grabbing her purse, she locked the car and walked up the four steps to her front door. After opening the door with her key, she walked into the foyer to be greeted by a very excited Woody. She took off her suit jacket and hung it and her purse on the coat tree, then turned to her dog.

"Hello to you too, Woody," she laughed, as he stood on his hind legs and placed his front paws on her thighs. "Did you miss me?"

"We both did," Aaron's voice began from the doorway to the living room.

She looked up to find him standing there in a white button down shirt and jeans. He'd been wearing sweats and t-shirts, finding them easier to put on with his injured arm, so this outfit was a pleasant and damn sexy change of pace.

"Look at you," she smiled, walking to him, and playing with the collar of the shirt. "Did you get this on by yourself?"

"I did," he proudly said, pulling her into his arms, "Took me a while, but I got the buttons with my left hand, too."

"We'll have to work on tying a tie," she mused.

"Already started on it," he dismissed, claiming her lips in a sultry kiss.

"Mmmm, nice…"

"Yeah," he replied, with another kiss, "There's more where that came from."

"Aaron," she protested, "You had surgery…"

"And this morning Doctor Moore released me back to full activities."

"And your shoulder?"

"It's stiff, but I don't see where it will get in the way," he said, using his right hand to unbutton her blouse.

"Let me see the left hand do it," she challenged.

"Fine," he countered, and slowly unbuttoned the rest of the buttons with his left hand. "Happy now?"

With a peck on the lips she said, "As a matter of fact, I am

"I think you could be happier," he said, slipping the shirt from her shoulders.

"Didn't you say you made dinner?"

"I had dinner delivered," he corrected, "From Dante's."

"You're spoiling me…" she protested, but he cut her off with a kiss and backed her to the stairs. "What are you doing?"

"Dinner will stay warm for a while," he slyly said.

XXXXX

Making love brought a few challenges that Aaron Hotchner hadn't thought about, the most frustrating being that his shoulder wasn't quite strong enough to support his weight in the missionary position.

When he tried to lean above her, the pain was too great and he nearly collapsed on top of her. Carrie, to her credit, took it all in stride and simply suggested they switch positions. A quick movement and a few moments later and everything was back on track.

Or so he thought. Of course, with her being on top, she got to look down at him and the two fresh scars provided by Walter Becker. He could tell she was trying to avoid staring, but each time her eyes caught the freshly healing skin, her movements grew more tentative, gentler, and seriously put a damper on things.

"Carrie," he said, causing her to look at him. "It's okay…I'm not going to break…"

"I…" she began, tears springing to her eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"I watched the tape that Eddie took inside the building," she quietly said, her eyes finally settling on his, "I saw what he did to you…"

He pulled her down and kissed her softly, "I'm fine, Carrie. I'm here."

"I know," she sniffed, "I just…"

He kissed her again, a bit more firm and insistent, "No more tears," he murmured, between kisses, "Its time to move on."

"I know," she said, against his lips, as she began to grind against him again. "I know…"

"That's it," he encouraged, as she worked him with her body, "This is what's real…"

"It is…" she breathed, grinding harder, "You're here…you're okay…"

"I love you…"

"I love you," she replied, kissing him. "Now stop talking and make love to me…"

There were no more words, just the sounds of their breathing, of skin against skin, and then finally, the sounds of release as they both cried out their climax. Carefully, she climbed off of him and lay down on his right side.

"Come 'ere," he said, pulling her into his arms.

"I very nearly killed the mood," she sheepishly said, looking up at him.

He shook his head, "It's been a long time. Natural disaster wouldn't have killed the mood."

She laughed, a true, full laugh. "I'm so glad to see that your injuries haven't killed your libido."

"No, but I'm definitely going to have to work on those weight bearing exercises."

"I don't mind being on top."

"Don't get used to it," he winked, "I'll be back on top soon."

"Yeah, I know you will…"


End file.
